


a million stars

by bokutoma



Series: music, when soft voices die [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Love, M/M, Underage Drinking, vague mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 06:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20925488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokutoma/pseuds/bokutoma
Summary: life is hard, and linhardt can say that without a trace of teenage angstbyleth is lovely, though





	a million stars

If there’s one thing Byleth is good at, Linhardt learns (which is a false premise to begin with, considering how infuriatingly excellent he is at everything he puts his mind to), it’s blowing smoke rings. He smokes less often than he used, because even though dealing with the death of your father is a hell of a thing to handle, time does heal all wounds. Still, it’s apparently a skill that can be retained in much the same way riding a bike can, and Linhardt is suitably impressed.

It’s kind of an ideal night out, the stars perfectly visible despite the light pollution that threatens to blot out everything the two of them love about the sky. The wind is cool enough to keep him awake even though he knows his boyfriend wouldn’t mind him falling asleep on the hood of his car, a beat up, shitty, ancient Civic that still runs like it’s brand new (until it doesn’t). It’s a testament to how much he like Byleth that he’s willing to fuck around without the promise of a comfortable sleep during. Even Caspar doesn’t get that privilege, and they’re best friends.

Byleth fishes a pilfered beer from the six pack on the ground beside him, offering it to him wordlessly. Linhardt take it, not because he thinks Corona is any good, but because it probably came from Rhea’s liquor cabinet, drinks for every occasion. Their hands tangle together as they sip, long pulls that go nowhere but down, and Linhardt tucks his head against Byleth’s shoulder, warm and real and everything that no one understands but the two of them.

“I hate this town,” Byleth mumbles, and Linhardt can hear the smile in his voice, the words kidding but the meaning anything but.

“Let’s run away and start a band,” he replies, and it’s funny because they probably could if they wanted to; Byleth can do anything, and he’s filled his head with enough practical business and music theory that they could pull it off, at least for a while.

He gets what Byleth means, though. To have had a father like Jeralt, who loved his son a whole goddamned lot even if he was shit at showing it, only to lose him and end up with Rhea, who was nice enough, if a bit weird and overbearing and stifling and everything Linhardt’s boyfriend hated...he would probably run away too.

They don’t talk a whole lot, not on most of their dates - the only exceptions being when he’s hyped up about something and Byleth is the only who cares and knows enough to keep up - but he likes it this way. The two of them fit together better than any puzzle pieces, and they get each other. It’s a rarity that Linhardt has learned to enjoy.

Besides, they don’t need to be verbal to communicate. The way Byleth’s fingers, callused from the fencing Edelgard made him take up; stroke against his cheek and idly twirl through his hair tells Linhardt everything he needs to know.

“I love you,” Byleth says, ten smoke rings and a bottle later.

“And I love you,” he says.

The stars shine overhead, limitless and all-knowing, and there will never be anything exactly like this moment again.

Linhardt can live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know if you think i should make this a fic...i kinda love this 
> 
> twitter @kingblaiddyd


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